STEEL GUARD
by MisterSplitfoot
Summary: A Stormtrooper is haunted by visions as he participates in high priority missions. DISCLAIMER: I do not own any names, places, or terminology used from the Warhammer 40,000 Universe. Reviews will be cherished. Chapter 6: A Tale of Loss and Vengence
1. Prologue

Prologue: Rapid Eye Movement

I thought I was awake but I was wrong. It was one of those dreams again. The kind I only have before a new battle campaign begins. They begin with only darkness and deep, unnatural voices. I'm told they're waiting for the right time to escape and consume all that I've ever known. Opening my eyes, I see the same city I've seen in all the other dreams. It felt familiar and I knew it was a hive on my home planet, but I can't remember any names. I notice something about this particular dream that was different than the others.

In all the other visions, or whatever the hell these things are, I'm floating. I have no hands, feet, or even a nose. I was just two floating eyes. The things I saw through those eyes were terrible. In every dream people left and right, citizens I assume, were tearing each other apart in front of a gated Imperial building. The Planetary Defense Force was trying quell them, like it was a riot, but it was too chaotic. Bolts rang out and holes formed in the most vigorous of the crowd. Blood stained everything and blinded anyone in the vicinity.

I couldn't do anything in those dreams but in this one I could actually feel the air. I had a body that was younger and thinner. I run my hands through my black hair feeling how long it is. I feel a shirt, a vest, and trousers drenched in sweat cling to my body. I look around taking in how dark it is to the point in which I know I had to be in a hive. I'm standing in a vacant street with trails of blood and a burning cargo truck on its side. While deciding whether to inspect the truck a I hear a man's voice mutter something.

"Help me," says the voice in a pained tone a second time.

I begin walking slowly down the way lit by street lights, hoping I can find where voice came from. Once I see the shape of a body on the ground a little ways away I blink. In that split second, as if in fast forward, I fly to a spot next to the body. It is a PDF Trooper who is lying face down in the middle of the road. A light shows over him. A pool of blood is slowly growing from his stomach, staining his blue uniform. I crouch down and turn him over and to my surprise his eyes open immediately.

"Zander…it's…..you," he mutters struggling to breath from his pale, dry mouth.

"Sergeant Walker," I say, confused on how I know his name, yet recognizing the middle aged face. "We need to stop the bleeding."

"Medical…bag…dropped a few meters…back there, " Walker says motioning to a direction with his exhausted eyes. "Bastard…..stabbed me…while I was…"

"Stop Walker you need to save your strength," I command while standing up.

As I turn to search for the medical bag I'm warned to be careful. After walking for what felt like several minutes, the street being nearly pitch black, I spot the bag in front of a fire lit alleyway. A shadow takes shape on a wall of the alley as I draw closer. It forms the silhouette of a little girl of nine or ten. For a reason completely unknown I feel the urge to call the girl's name and leave the medical bag.

"Angelica," I call out in the form of a question.

I turn the corner into the alley and find it empty. A sound shrieks out and the little girl named Angelica in a torn uniform flies from the darkest part of the alley rolling onto her back. I run to her and kneel to help Angelica, a name that sparks deep emotion within me. I gently lift her head which makes the girl open her eyes.

"NO," Angelica shouts looking past me.

I look up and catch a quick glimpse of a scarfaced man covered in symbols freshly carved into his skin. The rusty wrench he is holding comes down directly into my face. I awake abnormally by slamming my head into something hard. Only when white light stings my eyes making them focus do I understand where I am. My teammate stares with a smirk on his face while the other two get dressed.

"I hate metal bunk beds," I grumble as I settle into a sitting position.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter I: Apex Squad**

As I look around the room my perception of where i am slowly returns. I am in stormtrooper living quarters aboard the CLAUDIA, a naval ship used for transporting the 51st Steel Legion. I hear Julian "Spike" Slateman chuckle as I groggily put on my off duty, recreational uniform. The dark gray shirt, pants, and boots feel clean and form fitting to my thick exterior. The name Normand in white text is printed across my back. The chamber is irritatingly small, which is seen as better by our superiors. We stormtroopers are the 51st Steel Legion's finest after all. All other legionaires that aren't officers or stormtroopers sleep in enormous rooms stretching for kilometers. Personally I prefer them over all the compactness of our privileged quarters.

Looking in the mirror I notice my forehead is pink from hammering it into the bottom of my friends bunk. My skin is tanner than it was in the dream and my black hair is shorter. My hazel eyes give a hard look as I am reminded of all my service in Apex Squad by the scars on my cheek and chin. I fought as a soldier all my life, but not to do a service for the Emperor. No, I purge xenos and burn heretics to save lives. One death of an enemy is a million spared for mankind.

"Damn Zander you were struggling so much I thought you were wrestling a live grenade," cracks Spike interrupting my train of thought with his big, brown grin. He was just happy he was awake to watch my discomfort with those mischievous brown eyes. Spike was always a dark humor kind of guy even at the academy all those years ago. Probably the only reason we were friends was that I was the one person who'd talk and hadn't died yet. I called it skill, but Spike called it luck and that someday, mine would rub off on him. Spike scratches his ear where his black hair ends while waiting for the others and I to finish our warm up exercises. He'd waken up early so he had time to let off a couple jokes before we all ran off on some errands.

"I wouldn't talk about greenskins Spike, the briefing I hear is about fighting those mothers on some farm planet," says Sergeant Victor Clye as he stands up slowly. His constant vigilance, Spike calls paranoia, has saved Clye's life and ours hundreds of times. This combined with a by-the-book attitude make him a favorite under every officer we've served under. His multiple scars trailing on his pale, bald head and across his blue eyes are his badges of honor. To the Sarge it's better to be scarred and alive than handsome and dead.

"Before I have to hear Spike make another idiotic comment, I'd like to see the new armory unit they just installed last week, Normand would you like to join me?" asks Diana Trotskav her emotionless, dark eyes directed at me. I don't know much about Trotskav other than how she got here. During a campaign a Vostroyan Regiment caused mass casualties due to friendly fire. Bound by integrity, the high ranks donated the 51st Steel Legion ten of its premium warriors. One of these gifts was the woman with sanguine hair standing before me. Trotskav was assigned to our squad a year ago and usually never speaks unless spoken to. Hearing her speak first now was a rare occasion.

"Will do, I've been waiting for the chance to make Pepper II for a long time," I reply with mild satisfaction at the prospect of constructing my own autogun from scratch.

"Forget that, lets ditch Miss First Blood to clean her barrel," blurts Spike sticking his thumb in Diana's direction. "and go to the cafeteria for some grub."

"No thanks Spike, that stuff I saw in my dream ruined my appetite," I reply as I piece it back together in my mind, while witnessing Trotskav's slightly annoyed face. That damn dream felt so real and I remember everything. I've seen a lot worse in my length of service yet something about it chills me to the bone. The man with the wrench had to be a cultist, but the only heretics I fought were dressed in carapace. Where in the Emperor's name do these hallucinations come from?

"You're sticking me with Sarge?" Spike asks with obvious annoyance. "talking to him is like talking to a rock that bitches on occasion."

"Spike, if you don't shut your mouth I'll stuff a frag in it next time we're deployed," threatens Clye.

"I give you the Stone of Bitching," remarks Spike making the the Sarge punch him in the shoulder. As we are about to part ways in a metallic colored corridor of the stormtrooper garrison Sergeant Clye gives us one last order.

"Normand, Slateman, I want you two to be on your finest behavior," Clye demands. "because an Inquisitor and his posse is hitching a ride and just might run into you."

As I walk in front of Trotskav she, rather than staring ahead, directs her gaze at me. I can almost feel the amount of focus burning into the back of my head. I stop and turn around to ask Trotskav what's wrong.

"This one has affected you much more than the others," she states as a it was a fact. "I noticed you've been trembling since you awoke."

"I…don't want t talk about it," I breath out.

"…I don't want you having another hallucination on the battlefield," says a Trotskav with a hint of seriousness in her controlled tone. She must be referring to the time I thought I saw an Eldar were a two man team once on a mission and I was her spotter. Trostkav is deathly afraid of Eldar. She tried to use me as a meat shield after I mentioned catching a glimpse of one. Why she fears them is beyond me, I just hope I'm not stuck with Trotskav if an Eldar mission pops up.

"I won't see something that isn't there, so relax," I answer, knowing she will still factor in my possible insanity on our next assignment.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter II: Faith in Firepower**

The planet Command planned to deploy us on was closer than I thought. The last three hours consisted of the mission briefing and preparation. Our job along with all the other stormtrooper squads is to deep strike into and sabotage an ork infested manfactorum. All the while a main battle force consisting of several armored battalions and infantry companies will attack from the outside. Apparently since our objective is inside one of the larger deserts of this world we were administered desert camouflage.

I go through one final weapons check in hangar bay. I figure my custom M40 Armageddon Pattern Autogun named Pepper II could use a little tweaking. I adjust the rifle scope that has replaced the top hand grip. Next I tap my two specially made 40 round drum magazines on my tan colored helmet to clear any bullet jams. I slap a magazine into my bolt pistol and holster it loosely on my side, so I can use it to can fill an greeny's snout full of lead when the time comes. Finally I test how quickly I can whip out my knife, the blade being as long as my arm.

As I sheath my pointy friend I take notice of what my squad is doing. Sergeant Clye slings his hotshot lasgun over his shoulder as he begins speaking to our current Valkyrie pilots. Trostkov flexes her armor testing the firmness and takes out a rag to give her sniper rifle a final wipe down. Spike spins the cylinder chamber of his grenade launcher and latches it into place then turns to face me. I know behind the thick, black gasmask he is grinning his "we are probably going to die" grin. I hear someone answer loudly in a stern tone before Spike can pull a joke out of his ass.

"Apex Squad as requested madam," the Commissar states as all four of us turn to face him. The first thing I notice is that it's the Commissar from our briefing, then I see the man is addressing someone with her hand on the hilt of her chainsword.

"Thank you Commissar Belken, that will be all," the Acolyte says, her heuristic, green eyes flit in Apex Squad's direction.

"Ten minutes until we enter atmosphere!" informs one of the pilots with a wild tone. While making our descent I go over in my head why the black and white armored blondie is on our Valkyrie. Sarge was right about an Inquisitor on the ship and though I thought it seemed strange, but it ends up the heartless bastard is leading the attack against the orks. The Inquisitor decided to assimilate his cadre into our ranks which lead his apprentice picking us to be her chaperons. I suddenly feel the ship rumbling and brace for the orks' welcoming gifts.

"EMPEROR ALL MIGHTY!," screams one of our pilots as the craft veers to left.

It was probably another Valkyrie going up in flames. The co-pilot must be a rookie because this happens all the time. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if half the fighting force was shot down before reaching the ground.

"Touchdown in five minutes and boy does that L.Z. look scorching, so get ready!" orders the more seasoned aviator.

"When we move I want a tight X Formation with Acolyte Porcia in the center, Trotskav on the right, and Normand and Slateman, you're in the back, understand!" demands Sergeant Clye.

We all say our words of confirmation except the Acolyte who simply nods as the Sarge looks at her. The Valkyrie briefly hovers over a structure allowing us to zip line down. When I hit the cement roof I hear deafening noises of every kind of weapon imaginable invading my muffled ears. We begin firing from our vantage point the moment we spy a small mob of greenskins.

I hear the creatures yelling oaths as I fire indiscriminately. The brutes fall in twos and threes as Troskav's rifle blows what little brains they have out their skulls. Sarge orders Spike and I to work our way down while he and Trotskav provide supporting fire. I catch a glimpse of the Acolyte jumping from the roof revving her chainsword before descending. We run down metal steps into an area where a Sentinel is being constructed by robotic appendages. Several orks wearing orange and black direct their attention to us. I notice some are slavers with whips for the smaller ones who were busy manning the machinery until Spike and I walked in. The little maggots started to screech, run, and hide while their masters rushed us drawing rusty cleavers and large, crude hammers. I'm able to gun down a couple with three bursts each, shredding their skulls into pieces. Spike messily blows off the head and shoulders of the few that get close. Blood and smoke flow out as their carcasses hit the floor. Sergeant Clye enters alone as I pull out my knife and track down the snot colored midgets.

"Acolyte Porcia and Trotskav are killing off the stragglers outside," declares Clye as I gut a whelp that hit me with a wrench.

"I got the boomsticks whenever you feel like it Sarge," spouts Spike, jerking his thumb to his backpack.

"No, we save those charges for the main fueling depot," replies our commanding officer.

"Can't we use this Sentinel?" I ask noticing the thing is already finished.

"Sure, why don't we hold up a sign that says shoot me please," retorts Spike while imitating holding a sign above his head.

"Normand we need to move quickly and that thing will only get in the way," explains Clye while operating a control panel.

"Roger that," I answer in response. After regrouping the five of us exit the building and gradually move toward our objective.

Around a sharp corner we encounter a Nob and his hunting party.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter III: A Separation from Routine**

"Imp Frags ready," shouts Sarge, while pulling his own pin.

We all prime our grenades and await Sergeant Clye's next order. The big chief and his horde are running toward our position. Our First Born sniper had seen them first and was nicked by a bolt in the shoulder pauldron. Apex Squad immediately dove for cover which luckily existed as crates and unused machines. Even the Acolyte had taken cover and waited to pounce. Us Stormtroopers carry Impact Grenades which are explosives that blow when they hit something instead of going off when a timer runs out. Seconds pass as we sweat in the hot, desert sun. Finally after what felt like an eternity Clye gives us the okay to throw. Spike and I toss ours over our heads but, Trotskav leans back to aim then forcefully chucks the bombastic ambassador. In a moment I hear the boom and a lot of yelling.

"AW DA HUMIEZ GOT ME FOOT!", is the loudest shout, right before Apex Squad springs up to bring on the real pain.

"Spike do not fire," barks the Sarge at seeing a certain blond chainsword user dash to the nearest greenie.

I open fire upon the wounded ones, their mutinous voices turning into sounds of gurgling blood. After putting the last one out of his misery, I join Trotskav and Sergeant Clye in handling the livelier brawlers. Most of the greenskins are too distracted by the blood thirsty woman among them to even glance at us. The Acolyte weaves through our gunfire and the orks' axe swings as if she is dancing. Her sleek, white armor becomes stained with blood, but none of it is hers. I instantly redirect my arc of fire at three green beasts that start sprinting toward Apex Squad's position, one of which is heading straight towards Spike.

Trotskav and I drop two of them, but the third hearty aggressor survives several sniper rounds to the torso and a few bursts from Pepper II to the legs. The green bastard crawls up to Spike clenching his axe tightly and spewing curses only to have his head disappear in a cloud of gory bits. I'm watching smoke from Spike's grenade launcher billowing into the air when I hear the distinct sound of a chainsword ripping through flesh. I glance over in the direction it came from.

"Are you all right Acolyte Porcia?" I hear Trostkav say without a hint of concern in her voice. I see the Acolyte nod and wipe blood off her brow with a cloth. She tucks the rag away into her belt pouch. The Nob lies diagonally cut in two at the Acolyte's feet. I notice the jaw of the poor bastard is open and gushing blood. I look down to drop my drum magazine containing only a little ammo left and load the next one. Spike is pattng me on the shoulder when the Sarge speaks.

"This is Apex Squad, we read you Sergeant Bluse," Clye answers into his vox-caster. Spike, Trotskav, Porcia, and I regroup around Sarge as he continues.

"Send the coordinates and we'll be there within the hour ,Apex out," replies our Sergeant to the other. The Acolyte walks away when Clye begins to relay what he just heard.

"Squads Eva and Panzer have found an area to rendezvous with all squads nearby, including us, to begin the full offensive on the main fuel depot," explains Sarge. I turn to Spike, ready to hear a complaint or a joke on how bad things will get.

"Yeah, that's just peachy, but where the hell is she going," replies the grenadier who begins pointing at the Acolyte several meters away. While wondering at that myself the green eyed monster turns to face us.

"I must go on a different path, for our objectives divide us," the Inquisitor's servant says in a loud voice. I stare in confusion as the Acolyte turns back around and resumes walking. I turn to Spike, expecting _something_ to come out of his mouth, but he simply shrugs.

"Normand go with her," Sergeant Clye commands while pointing at the black and white clad woman. Suddenly Trotskav speaks up, making the Sarge turn to face her.

"Sir I don't think you should do that," she says to my surprise. "Normand leaving would lower our squad's fighting strength."

"My order still stands," remarks Clye with finality. "Normand catch up to Acolyte Porcia now!"

I quickly nod at my superior and begin running toward my designated target. I jog up to Acolyte Porcia's side, making her look my way. She stares at me with annoyance, but motions to come along anyway. While walking my heads-up display flickers with files involving codes. There's one file that isn't a code, but a recorded message from Sarge. The message explains that the codes are for access of every stormtrooper squad frequency. I imagine back up would be necessary in a manufactorum teeming with orks.

"Why does the ground have to be made of metal," is my first thought as I start feeling tired of trudging in the rays of an unforgiving star. I glance at my new partner in front of me, who somehow knows where we're going. She has no vox-caster nor wrist communicator yet acts as if guided by the Emperor himself. I reach her right side and snap my fingers to get the lady's attention.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to question your sense of direction, but where exactly are we going?" I ask hoping the next thing that goes through my head isn't a chainsword.

"It's confidential," Porcia replies, her green eyes seeming to interrogate my very soul.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't just accept that," I state while feeling every part of my brain scream that I shouldn't. "Please ma'am, tell me where we're going."

We stare at each other silently for what feels like several life times until finally, my possible murderer speaks in a harsh tone.

"We are going to a meet with Inquisitor Talonius," she remarks with glare that could be pierce power armor. "That is all you have permission to know."

"Yes ma'am," I reply, feeling like a child.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV: Humanity Has A Cost**

The metal abomination is trying to keep up from what I can tell last time I looked back. I was astonished at Acolyte Porcia's order to double time away from the cylinder shaped walker when it appeared before us on a rooftop. I remember barely escaping the buzz saws swinging in wide arks as it landed much too close for comfort. Once the sound of spinning disks of death die down I take another look behind me. The "Killer Can", a nickname I remember sharing with Spike, with no ranged weapons and stubby legs, tries to catch up to the Acolyte and I. The monstrosity becomes a distant shape, and I'm barely able to hear a deep, raspy voice shout out.

"GIT BAK E'RE SO I CAN CHOP YA INTO BITZ!" yells the voice that sounds like a throat filled with nails.

The large star dims to an soft orange as it gradually lowers below the horizon. Night is coming quickly and Acolyte Porcia looks exactly how I feel: exhausted and hungry. I'm willing to rest anywhere as long as one of us keeps watch, but the attentive disciple who treads ahead has specific plans. The destination is close, I can just feel it. I'm probably just trying to be optimistic. As I question whether I'll survive any longer the pearl colored figure in front of me slowly rounds the corner of a structure. I follow turning from one wide boulevard to another. The only change I see between the two paths is their names, which are numbers painted on the metal ground. I'm ready risk death by chainsword to stop for a moment when Porcia finally halts.

"Great, another factory that looks exactly the same as the last fifty we've passed," I state in my mind, knowing I would be missing a tongue if I let the thought slip.

I watch as Porcia approaches the vast and ornate entrance numbered 1138. I examine the white and black Mechanicus emblem adorning the solid, iron gate until it splits. The massive doors open to the sides and I witness a Tech-priest dressed in a crimson robe emerge. His, or rather its mechanical extra limbs move in controlled patterns above its head. It marches up to Porcia with infrared, optical lenses focusing. I slowly approach and as I get closer I take note that the priest has no face. Instead a steel face plate engraved with gold trim, and a red hood conceals its entire head. I glance away, trying to appear alert by aiming Pepper II to the right of our position. Suddenly I hear something sounding like grinding gears, which makes me turn back to face the man-shaped machine.

"Acolyte Porcia, you are quite…early and why are you not with **_all_** your assigned personnel?" grates the crossbreed, his optics shifting in my direction then back to their origin point.

"Fabricator Locum, I understand this might sound strange, but I was instructed by your Psyker to reach this place quickly and the stormtroopers would have hindered my swiftness," Acolyte Porcia declares without any hesistation.

"Ah, yes Lilith must have contacted your mind out of hysteria."

"Excuse me, Fabricator?"

"Well, you must comprehend that we have witnessed many greenskins pass by Edifice 1138, so out of anxiety, Lilith must have lead you out too precociously," the Tech-priest explains with I can imagine is amusement. "I assume that the leader of this one's squad ordered him to be join you?"

"Yes, however he has been keeping up so far, so there is no issue," clarifies Porcia without even looking my way.

"Interesting, now if would please follow me," concludes the synthetic hybrid gesturing us to enter Edifice 1138.

Sentinels, Basilisks, Trojans , and many other vehicles are being constructed while the three of us tread toward a staff elevator. Multiple Engineseers board the lift, making me feel a bit claustrophobic. After two minutes I'm sweating profusely into my face mask from all the excess heat and I thank the Emperor when we finally reach the third floor. I immediately compose myself upon arrival and try not to look tired.

"Welcome to Central Dogma," bellows the head tech-priest making a motion with his hand in a presentational matter to red robed entities working on hundreds of green, transparent screens in a dark-lit room.

"Looks more like a cerebrum to me," I mutter making my two superiors stare at me. One with curiosity and the other with annoyance.

"Quite…anyway, this place is where we shall encounter Inquisitor Talonius upon his arrival, which should be in about six hours," enucleates the Locum while viewing a screen attached to his left hand.

"I am grateful, also I'd like to know if there is any place for repose in this facility," inquires Acolyte Porcia, answering my silent prayers for rest.

"Indeed, I'll send you to the dormitories right away," replies the mechanical being in a flat tone. It must be disappointed that we don't want to see its "little toys."

Once reaching the dorms, which are on a floor below ground-level, a servitor guides me to a vacant chamber with a thick cot jutting out of a metal wall. The room also contains a hologram transmitter and compartments for storing cybernetic attachments. I take off my helmet and face mask and begin trying to contact Sergeant Clye on my portable vox-caster. I'm not able get a signal probably because of the machinery moving above. After an hour of dosing off in my tan, under-armor uniform I hear a knock on the door. On the other side of the doorway I'm greeted with another red-robed engineseer. I'm about to ask what's going on when a I hear surprisingly young, female voice.

"I knew you would come," murmurs the woman while lifting her hood.

I'm able to distinguish her short, black hair and strangely purple eyes while trying to understand what she could possibly want.

"You do not recognize me?" inquires the peculiar priestess."I am Lilith: Psyker and Magos Biologis."

"What is it you require ma'am?" I ask out of confusment.

"Please conceive that we have met before, but I sense something is blocking your memories."

"I don't understand."

Lilith sighs and lifts her gloved hand to my chin. At her touch something flashes before my eyes. It was the little girl from my dream.


	6. Chapter 5

**NOTICE**

_1. The Bolter Pattern used in this chapter is by an artist and a piece depicting said Bolter can be found at a website called Deviant Art as the Perinetus-bolter by *MrRumbles  
_

_2. The music played during __**"The Symphony Of Battle"**__ scene is the __**1812 Overture Finale ( with cannons) by Tchaikovsky**__ which I recommend you listen to at that point in the story. _

* * *

**Chapter V: The Scientist and The Symphony**

We're standing in Lilith's laboratory and I cannot concentrate due to the place being filled with body parts. I eye the eccentric engineseer as she checks samples of my blood, spit, sweat, skin and even urine, which she says she's doing in the name of science. It feels tense standing right next to her since she has refused to answer my questions about her true identity and what it has to do with my past. No only that, but the disembodied eyeballs won't stop staring at me from their glass cylinders. The Magos Biologis examines my piss while explaining that it's her job to observe all aspects of physiology. I can understand duty, but does she have to have the testicle jar out in the open where everyone can see them?

Despite all that I'm still grateful for her payment. Lilith calls the weapon a Perinetus Pattern Bolt Carbine. I fear the colossal weight of the bolter as Lilith hands it over, but it is surprisingly tolerable. Lilith assures me that it won't be a encumbrance and that it was specially made for someone with my size. So, here I stand in Lilith's "House Of Organs", studying the large, exotic weapon within my grasp. And though I'm slightly distracted because I think I just saw one of the stomachs move in it's container, I still can't get the idea that my visions are memories off my mind.

It just doesn't make sense because my memory doesn't have any holes. I can recall everything from my childhood to now. Out of all those times I'm pretty sure I'd remember the horrors I faced in those dreams. While mulling this over I take a couple looks at short haired scientist who is loading "Lilithian" bolts into magazines for her gift to me. After much inner debate I accept that Lilith will tell me the truth when she's ready, and begin examining the elements of the bolt carbine. The long barrel suggests potential range, but the overall design is more compact, I assume, than standard patterns. From close observation I can heartily say that this bolter is going to kick some serious ass.

"You like it, don't you?" teases Lilith while handing me a duffel bag filled with ammo.

"It's big and shiny," I reply with a cheerful tone I normally only use with Spike. "But I'll have to test this baby out to make sure that it's reliable."

"I'm contented that you think so highly of it," states the tech-priestess with a grin. "If you would like, you could satisfy your eagerness at the-"

"Magos Lilith?" I hear a voice say from directly behind her.

The Psyker motions me to leave and slowly turns around. The bright light casting her silhouette on the floor tells me the voice came from a hologram transmitter. It must be the Locum Fabicator for a garbled metal grinding sound begins as I crouch and edge to the exit. I stand as I set foot in the steel corridor and jog a little ways till I reach my assigned quarters. Old Pepper II is placed in one of the horizontal lockers where she'll hopefully be found by Tech-priest willing to care for her.

Sleep is impossible now that I have a new toy to try out. To calm my nerves I take out some rations and take a couple bites. The stuff is what we stormies call "life jerky" because it looks and tastes like dried meat, but contains all the essential vitamins to keep us soldiers going. I begin pacing and within a quarter of an hour I'm taking a lift to the top floor. The engineseers in the Central Dogma ignore me as I make my way to a metal door hopefully leading to the roof.

I stop at the obstruction standing in my way of fresh air and stare at it's control panel for a moment. After pressing several wrong buttons I hear footsteps approach. The first thing I notice when I turn around is that the green-eyed woman isn't wearing her marble colored armor. Instead a raven black officers coat and trousers adorn her nimble frame. Porcia gives a scoff as I motion for her to access the terminal to the door.

Aboard_ another_ elevator we travel to the place I've been looking for. The roof maintains three landing zones, metal safety bars, and a great view of the surrounding district. I stroll to one of the edges and gaze down at the avenues crisscrossing the ground below. Porcia keeps her distance by leaning on the bars a meter away from me. Out of the corner of my eye I see her thoughtful expression as the wind flicks up her blond hair. It's only when I hear the buzzing of an antenna do I remember to pull out my handheld vox-caster.

"Apex Squad do you copy?" I say clearly into the device.

"Apex Squad reporting, over," replies a familiar voice to my relief.

"This is Trooper Normand, what is your status, over?" I ask with a sense of caution.

"We've been gaining ground ever since you left, over," replies Sergeant Clye through some static.

"Roger that, have there been any casualties, over?"

"Affirmative…It's Spike…he lost a leg to a rocket, but I think...I think he's going to make it" reports Sergeant Clye, sighing the whole time.

I stare out into the drafty night as I contemplate what Clye just told me. By accident I let my concern trickle into an expression. I don't look at Porcia but I know she saw it. My moment of weakness.

"Is he-" I start say lowly into the communicator, almost in a whisper.

"Yes, Normand I already told you SPIKE-WILL-MAKE-IT, so stay calm," comforts the Sarge with his usual vigor. "Now listen closely because this concerns you too, understand?"

"Yes sir!"

"Apex Squad is being reassigned to Edif-" begins Clye before the connection drops. I'm looking at the vox-caster out of confusion when the lights start shutting off.

"What's going on?" I utter as I look at Porcia.

"The Third Wave has arrived," Porcia declares without further explanation

I look down to the direction of strange sounds playing from down the street. My superior produces binoculars from her belt and hands them to me. I hesitate to take them until I realize she already knows what is about to happen. I focus the binoculars in time to see Basilisk Tanks, with their headlights glowing in the darkness, roll foward in a pyramid formation of three in the front, two in the middle and one in the back. In front of the artillery I spot numerous platoons of Steel Legionnaires, some of which are armed with flamers, being flanked by a couple of Hellhounds. The queer noises I hear are coming from a Chimera transport in the back. It's chases is mounted with six loudspeakers placed in the usual spots filled by lasgun turrets.

_(The Symphony of Battle Scene) _

Music, that's what I think it's called. I've only heard the sounds of music once before when Apex Squad was summoned by a Commissar for a personal briefing. I loved the strange system of creating feelings with sound so I studied the terminology on my down time. The tune builds as the Basilisk Tanks raise their cannons. I shift my vision to the east where the armored division is facing. A few kilometers away I see hundreds of orks and a fist full of looted Leman Russ Tanks approaching and gradually building speed. The valorous symphony reaches it's climax as pyre lights up the night sky.

An inferno engulfs the enemy to the notes of the music, reducing the war band to ashes. I wouldn't believe there was life there If hadn't see it only moments ago. While changing locations to get a closer look I catch on that Porcia has been smiling the whole time. The lenses of the binoculars focus to sight of Legionnaires and Hellhounds torching survivors while the inspiring composition continues. As the beige coated guardsmen advance to one of the tanks a hatch opens. Five green beasts armed to the teeth quickly funnel out and charge the nearest soldiers only to be halted by streams of fire and lasrifle shots. I take one last glance of Commissar Belken executing the last ork as the music dies away.

"Normand was it?" catechizes Porcia as I turn to her.

"Yes ma'am?" I ask, watching her eyes drift across all the fire-lit landscape.

" Please, enlighten me…," she pauses to the point where I follow her gaze to some burning corpses. "What _keeps you going_ in this unforgiving universe?"

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTES

_Well, this is my first time orchestrating (no pun intended) a large battle and I'd love to see reviews of what you thought. _

_Also I have some ideas for the next that cannot be decided without some help._

_Inquisitor Talonius will be arriving soon and he will be travelling with a Priest as his advisor. The Priest is named Father Ezekiel Luther and is abnormally kind to troops._

_**The two officials will either have a group Orgryns who affectionately call Father Luther "Pa" or a Platoon of Elite Inquisitorial Stormtroopers.**_

_You may suggest one or the other in a review or private message me. Thanks! _


	7. Chapter 6

**I tweaked some problems caused in the initial update when I was half asleep including an entire missing paragraph. Enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter VI: The Broken Man**

Six guardsmen attempt to bayonet the hulking foe before them. After several minutes of stabbing and dodging ax swipes the ork falls bleeding everywhere. The Legionaires continue incinerating verdant corpses as they go. Unfortunately I cannot warn them of their imminent deaths. I already know it's too late once a few greenies spring from their feigned death positions to chop apart the nearest squad. The men have no chance despite the prism of fire enveloping their targets. I pull down the binoculars as I notice a another platoon sprinting to aid their fellow defenders.

"Trooper Normand, I asked you a question," voices Acolyte Porcia in frustration. I can sense her presence is closer than before.

I glance at Acolyte Porcia for a moment, noticing she is a annoyed at my unresponsiveness, and that her hair is tied back into a ponytail. I now realize she is slightly shorter than me.

"You we're serious?" I reply going off on how she grinned when the question was brought up.

"I am always serious to my subordinates," Porcia states in a matter-o-fact way. "Now answer the question!"

"I fight in the Emperor's name."

"...You do realize lying to a member of the Inquisition is heresy?"

"Fine…I'll tell you the truth," I sigh out while pointing at her defensively "Just don't persecute me for that false proclamation."

"I give you my word that I won't condemn you," Porcia states with a stern expression.

"Good, so I found my reason to fight when…I…uh," I begin, but pause for a second for Porcia to speak. She stares for a moment then signals me to continue by nodding. "It's a long story."

"Then I order you to tell it!" declared Porcia like a stubborn princess.

"All right! So…I found my purpose to my little insignificant life when I was serving my first campaign as a Stormtrooper fresh out of the Elite Infantry Academy. I had found a planet I could live on for the rest of my life. It was called Tolkern, where the fields were green, the people loved accommodating servicemen, and there was plenty of fresh air," I illustrate as if it was days ago.

"My regiment was deployed on this planet on an educated guess. You see a Traitor vessel was being tracked by an Inquisitor and the ship was last seen near Tolkern. Obviously Command's assumption that the Insurrectionists would make planet fall came true and all hell broke loose in the city my squad was stationed in. Businesses, homes, and their owners were demolished and massacred. My entire squad was butchered and the only reason I survived was that I hid myself under a dead comrade. I planned to return my garrison, but not until I made sure every one of those damn murderers paid for what they did."

My voice grows quiet as I describe how I killed them. "Night came, and I managed to track down the band of traitors that murdered my squad. Armed with a flamer and some smoke grenades I blinded then burned most of them and watched as they screamed for a end to all the pain. Some that escaped my fiery vengeance were beat to death by some rubble from destruction they had caused. The last heretic had killed a man while trying to get into a bomb shelter. When I found her, I cut off the bitch's head with a large blade I had taken from one of the bodies. After she fell to the floor I noticed two children and their mother shivering in a corner. I convinced them I had good intentions by giving the father, the dead man outside, a proper burial. Together we reached a Planetary Defense Bunker. I never saw them again, but I always remember their gratitude."

"Was your regiment victorious in holding the planet?" Porcia asks as if she put the pieces of an intricate puzzle together.

"Yes ma'am, but with heavy casualties," I reply as I remember the reports after it was all over.

"All triumphs require sacrifice, yours was your squad and, well, I see that you live for them and the father that perished," states Porcia in a wise tone while peering as if she is looking she is through me.

"Indeed ma'am, I'm glad you understand," I answer, giving her an assuring nod.

"My repayment for your _personal_ contribution is my first name, which is Rachael," she says while smiling which she is surprisingly good at. "In addition to that you may call me Mistress Porcia from now on."

"Thank you Mistre-" I begin to say when I notice the roof lights gradually turn on as a loudspeaker announces it's very important message.

"THE GREENSKIN THREAT HAS BEEN NEUTRALIZED. ALL SYSTEMS ARE TO PERMITTED TO ACTIVATE NOW. I REPEAT THE GREENSKIN THREAT HAS BEEN-"

I turn my attention to the sound of the elevator doors opening. I stare as the Fabricator Locum and Magos Lililth exit the lift and stop abruptly as they notice Porcia and I standing before them. The Fabricator has no eyebrows but I can imagine it would raise one if it could. Instead I notice the inner lens of his optics focus then refocus. Lilith starts to have an interested expression, but stops herself and returns to a neutral one.

"I do not need to know why you two are here. I only require that you prepare yourselves, for in a few moments Inquisitor Talonius and Colonel Locke will be arriving," enunciates the Fabicator as the klaxon becomes silent.

As if summoned, two Valkyries appear in the black sky. One is painted tan and gold for it is the colonel's personal craft. The other is camouflage grey for stormtroopers. I reflex into salute position as the two carriers land. The two tech-priests bow as Porcia kneels to one knee. The Valkyries land as gracefully as insects with the Colonel's opening first. The first to exit are the Colonel himself and who I believe to be Inquisitor Talonius.

As Colonel Locke strolls by I take note of his attire. He is dressed in a simple tan, long coat with silver trim and three different medals pinned on the right side. A power sword in its sheath adorns Colonel's left thigh as a plasma pistol is holstered on the right. His hair is a faded bronze which matches his dark brown eye patch he chooses to wear rather than upgrading. Colonel Locke did always voice his hate for all things he dubbed "arbitrary enhancements." I shift my attention to the Inquisitor's contrasting color to the Colonel with his long crimson coat, black chest plate adorned with an ivory Inquisitorial "I" in the center, and a large red hat. The most distinctive feature of the sanguine investigator is the white beaked mask he wears with gold tinted lenses.

The two superiors completely ignore us due to a heated debate between them. It sounds kinda funny considering the Inquisitor sports a Krieger accent. The next person to emerge the Officer's Valkyrie is a white haired priest with a…shotgun…slung on his back. I blink twice with hidden disbelief as I watch the grey robed priest followed by a lieutenant in livery resembling the Colonel's stride up next to their respective masters. Finally a Command Squad consisting of a medic, a vox-operator, and two beret wearing legionnaires with melta guns file out and take up defensive positions overlooking the boulevard below.

I don't hesitate when I hear the second Valkyrie open. I leave Porcia and the others to find Sergeant Clye and Trotskav heaving Spike onto a gurney. The guilt hits like a hammer when I get a good look at him. Spike is barely conscious and his leg is bandaged right above the knee where it was severed. Sarge glances up as I reach him. I notice his gas mask hanging on his neck while trying not to look him in the eye.

"It's not your fault kid," Clye sighs out in his usual gruff manner.

"I have an idea on where to take him sir, so let me push the gurney," I say when I finally work up the nerve to look my sergeant face to face. "It's the least I can do for him."

I can tell the Sarge is distressed by Spike's condition, yet being the hardened man he is, showing concern isn't easy.

"Oh…hey Norm…how are you?" coughs out Spike as I take hold of the medical cart.

"Do not strain yourself, you need rest," says Trotskav before I can.

"Whatever…you say…tight-ass," mumbles Spike with a smile as he drifts into what I hope is actual sleep and not a coma.

"I'll take that as a complement," Trotskav replies, obviously trying to cheer me up.

The four of us as a full squad again saunter over to the elevator only to have Sergeant Clye to be called up by the Colonel. Lilith slips away from the Fabricator while he waits for the Inquisitor to notice him. She paces hesitantly toward Spike, Trotskav and I. Lilith's anxious eyes tells me she's worried yet I still don't know why or to what extent. Maybe we we're in a relationship before whatever happened caused my memory loss.

"Bring him to my lab and wait for me there," Lilith instructs probably with a plan in mind. "I promise I will help your comrade, but I must remain here for now until the Fabricator Locum dismisses me."

"Thanks, I was planning to anyway, see down there," I reply, imagining the possibilities if I had been there to save my maimed friend that lies before me.

As the elevator doors close I can feel Trotskav directing her focus at my head like she did aboard the CLAUDIA.

"Normand?" asks Trotskav after a few minutes.

"Yes?" I reply, glad I'm being pulled away from my condemning thoughts.

"Who was that woman?"


End file.
